Fragments
by Hubalaboo
Summary: Time goes by. What might seem to be small, insignificant occurrences are things to be remembered for them. A place to collect my Ichiruki oneshots and drabbles from now on.
1. The Bug in the Bathroom

_A/N: This is just a little place to collect any IchiRuki oneshots/drabbles I come up with... Most of these will be pretty random, and the length of each will vary. Regardless, enjoy!_

-

**1. The Bug in the Bathroom**

"Ichigo?..." came the faint, anxious call from the bathroom.

"What?" he answered, pencil frozen in midair, about to write the number 267 on his homework.

"Ichigoooo_._..."

Giving an exasperated sigh, he stood up from his desk and walked to the bathroom door. He knocked lightly. "What's up, Rukia?"

"Ichigoo... There's a bug in the bathroom..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Can I come in?"

"Yes..."

He opened the door to find her crouching and staring intently at something on the floor. A small insect, silver and rather flat with two long antennae, was marching slowly towards the bathroom wastebasket. Rukia followed its path with wide eyes, and then looked up at him worriedly. "What should I do?"

He shrugged, stifling a laugh at the comedic scene. "I dunno. Kill it?"

"Eh?!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure?"

He shrugged again. "It's just a bug."

"But it hasn't done anything wrong. It's just walking." She was still watching it, that adorably wide-eyed, concerned look still on her face.

"We kill things every day, Rukia."

"Yes, but this is different."

"You could just leave it, then."

She scrunched up her nose. "But then it might walk into your room at night and bite us."

Now he did laugh. "...Bite us?!"

She glared at him. "This is not a laughing matter, Ichigo! This is another very important lesson I might need to remember in the future! You are supposed to teach me what to do in this situation!"

He couldn't stop laughing. She was looking really confused now, but mad, too. She stood up and stomped to stand in front of him (still spluttering against the wall with mirth, silly boy).

"Ichigo."

"Haha-Y-y-yes-ss? -haa-aha..."

She was very unamused. He stopped laughing and sheepishly said, "Sorry."

She kept on looking at him seriously. "Now, what do I do?"

"All right," he said, a little more serious as well. "You've got three choices."

He crossed his arms and looked her in the eye.

"1. You could kill it."

Rukia shook her head.

"2. You could let it be."

She shook her head again.

"3. You could catch it and put it outside."

Rukia paused. Then, after several seconds of consideration, she said in a very solemn voice, "I think number three is the best choice."

She looked so grim saying it that Ichigo wanted to die with laughter right there and then, but decided against it, seeing she would probably come after his dead body with her zanpakutou, bring him back to life, and kill him all over again.

"So how would I catch it?" she asked.

"Umm, here," he replied, and took an unimportant sheet of paper from his desk. "Let it walk onto this, and then run for the window and dump the bug off."

"All right."

"I'll open the window already."

Rukia crouched down again and began to hunt down the insect eagerly, paper in hand. Ichigo thought she looked kind of like a kitten, clumsily trying to snatch a moving toy...

The image was rather cute. He slapped himself mentally and busied himself with opening the window.

"I GOT IT!"

"Woah-"

She came dashing at him at full speed, holding the paper out with the poor insect hanging on for dear life. She leapt up, landed on the windowsill, and reached out a little too fast to fling the insect off, nearly propelling herself right out the window. With a kind of short wail like "wah", she was grabbed by Ichigo and pulled back inside.

They collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily.

"Woahhh," gasped Rukia, "I almost fell. Thanks, Ichigo."

"No probs," he mumbled, face buried in the carpet. "Next time, don't run so fast. I would rather the bug fell, not you." He raised his head, a mischievous grin on his face. "On second thought..."

She threw the paper at him.

-


	2. Many Faces

_A/N: Ichigo reflects. Wow this is short._

-

**2. Many Faces**

Occasionally, Ichigo was intrigued by how Rukia could _change._

And she really did - she would change drastically, at her heart's desire.

She would sometimes be the regular, energetic teenage girl, spunky and spinning, humming an unknown tune while flipping through a manga or drawing another of her goofy pictures. She would sometimes be the fierce fighter and mentor, strong and wise, back to being more than a hundred years older than him and ready to slap some sense into him.

Then again, she would be a happy companion, walking down the street with him and smiling a big silly grin that made his heart skip a beat. She would be the wide-eyed curious child, gazing intently at something he knew was nothing special, or she would be a furious whirl of claws and fangs, ready to tear something's throat out. She would be the one to spend a wordless moment with on top of a hill in Rukongai, or the one to berate him for worrying too much. She would be the indignant royal princess, or the solemn, silent warrior, or the trusted guide in a dark maze.

She would be the mother to go quietly to at night when the nightmares got bad.

But, thought Ichigo fondly, she would always be by his side. That would never change.

-


	3. Just a Cold

_A/N: Woah, I'm on a roll._

-

**3. Just a Cold**

One fateful day, Rukia discovered that gigais can get sick, too.

It wasn't pleasant. Only a cold, confirmed Ichigo, but that didn't do much to make her stuffed nose and sore throat feel any better. At least her real shinigami form wasn't sick, so there was nothing to bother her during a fight.

But otherwise she spent most of her time in the real world in her gigai, and this cold was not pleasant. Not pleasant at all.

It wasn't like she hadn't gotten sick before; it was just that this cold was extra big and extra nasty and intent on making her miserable. She could swear it was making her die a slow painful death from the inside out, and then back again. She would say "noooo" at it a million times, and it just wouldn't listen, and make her cough in return. Stupid cold.

Ichigo knew that there were medicines that could temporarily stop the coughing or the sniffling - but he didn't want to risk her getting even sicker from the chemicals and substances in those medicines she would never have been exposed to.

He made her hot tea with lemon instead.

She liked that.

"That was good," she'd say every time he brought her a mugful to drink in bed (his bed, for the other beds in the clinic were full at the moment - or maybe because she wanted to stay in his familiar room). She would ask for another mugful, and another mugful, until he had to limit the number of mugfuls to five a day; otherwise the tea and lemon would run out in no time.

It wasn't that the tea was so amazingly good, though it did make her throat feel better. It was mostly that she liked to have him come upstairs and then _be_ there, and wait for her to drink her tea. She liked the attention, she realized a little selfishly.

Most of the time he would leave her to sleep, and sometimes she did, but her coughing would keep her up, and occasionally it got so bad that Ichigo would run upstairs and tell her to resist the urge to cough, breathe slow, and drink this water, here. When it ceased, he would tell her to try to sleep some more, and she would nod wearily and huddle into the covers, knowing that he was by the bed sitting in a chair - watching over her. She warned him that staying so close might make him sick too, but he only shrugged and told her it didn't matter.

Ichigo slept on the sofa downstairs while she was sick. She protested madly the first evening, used to them being in the same room every night, but after a bit of awkward realization and silence (first, the closet was too small for him to sleep in; second, there was only one bed, and unless they wanted to... er), the matter was left alone.

When she was sick, he looked at her with a little bit of raw worry in his eyes that he tried to mask with a gruff voice and his regular scowl, which she saw right through.

He saw right through her tea scheme, too.

Once, when she threw up and nearly choked to death from a massive coughing fit in the middle of the night, he hugged her. Now _that_ made her warm and happy. It set out a pure positive path to recovery, there and then.

His excuse was that his family would murder him if she didn't recover.

-

Unfortunately, that hug meant a few deadly germs traveled over to Ichigo.

When she hopped out of bed a few days later, good and bright and healthy, Ichigo was effectively "dead" on the floor.

"See, I told you," she said sadly, drawing the covers up to his chin. He grumbled and told her to shut up, aka _stop worrying_, because he, too, could see the raw worry in her eyes.

She left him in peace for the most part - but she always had him on her mind (for she was a worrywart, secretly), and remembering how she felt when Ichigo would go check on her, she also scurried up at random intervals. If he was sleeping, she only peered in to reassure herself and then left; if he was awake, she hopped inside without an excuse and quietly seated herself beside the bed.

She wasn't sure what to make him. He was already taking the mysterious medicine he hadn't let her take (though it didn't seem to be doing much good for the most part), and when she asked him if he wanted hot tea with lemon, he sincerely refused. "I had enough of that darn tea when you were sick," he rasped. "If I drank it, I think I would get sicker."

Rukia didn't want that. So she made him some good old traditional porridge, steaming hot, and though it looked tasteless Ichigo had to admit that it was actually very nice. She swelled with pride and thanked him in her smirking, wordless way.

Some nights Rukia disappeared strangely from the household. Isshin and Karin had an idea of where she went, but only Ichigo knew she was out fighting hollows, alone. One night she returned slightly battered up, and that was the snapping of his thread. He tried to say sorry, that she shouldn't have to fight them alone, that he'd get better as soon as possible (except it was all in a jumble of panicky mixed up sentences). She physically covered his mouth with her hand and looked at him with a tight something that could only be described as _no._

Then she loosened up, and told him in words that he needed to take his time getting better.

That didn't entirely satisfy him, but her gaze was so steady, so _Rukia,_ that he sighed and said he understood. Her smile was worth it.

On his worst night of coughing, she stayed up all night and sat right beside him on the bed, comfortingly close. This time it was him who warned her not to come too close, through a spatter of coughs - but she told him proudly that she'd already had the cold once, so she wouldn't get it again, which was maddeningly true.

He was glad she stayed.

It was only after the whole sick business was done and over with that they both realized they hadn't quarreled once.

-

_A/N: I like this one._


	4. Global Warming

_A/N: ...mm... some of my own thoughts are reflected in this one._

-

**4. Global Warming**

"Ichigo?"

"Hm?"

"What is... glo... globol worning?"

They were spending another lazy Saturday sprawled in his room, reading - him with some novel on the bed, her with some manga on the floor. Ichigo raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Global warming?"

Rukia nodded. "I see it on the morning news sometimes. And those funny animal shows. We hear about it in school, too, but I do not know what it is."

"It's... well..." He wasn't sure where to start. He scratched his head and moved to sit on the floor across from her.

"Global warming is basically how the Earth's temperature is rising," he said simply.

She frowned. "Is that bad?"

"Yeah," he said slowly. "It's pretty bad. We release this gas called carbon dioxide which makes... um..." He struggled to explain it in words she knew. "...like, the sun rays are getting trapped close to the Earth because we're releasing that gas. Through cars and factories, for example."

She nodded, understanding so far. "Tell me more. This is something very new to Soul Society, and I may be able to help."

He smiled weakly at her enthusiasm. _You won't be able to help..._ "Well... The Earth gets warmer, right, or even colder in some places, and things get messed up... Like the weather. There are lots more earthquakes now, and tsunamis, and droughts and stuff... The ice caps are melting, too, melting way too much to be normal, and the sea levels are rising. Really poor countries are doing bad, especially when they get hit by big earthquakes. Lots of people are dying..."

He shook his head slowly, wondering if she really needed to know all this. "It's not just that... We're cutting down forests way too fast, too, and overfishing, and doing tons of other stupid stuff. Animals are endangered 'cuz their homes get destroyed... We humans are spouting out huge amounts of garbage every day and landfill space is running out..."

"That's... I never guessed..."

He looked up at her. She was staring with _that face_ he hated to see. "Soul Society never had..."

"You don't have to worry about this, Rukia," he said quietly. "It's not your problem. It's a real world problem."

"But... But that is horrible! Why isn't anything being done about it?!" She was half-shrieking now, leaning forward and watching him urgently. "And it is my problem! I - You - I..."

"Things are being done," he told her. "Many people are trying to solve these problems. They're helping little by little. But the main thing is that most governments aren't doing anything... A lot of them are only interested in money and power, the economy, you know... And unless the governments do something big, it's really hard for the people to do something big."

Rukia's head was whirling. _Endangered?... Icecaps?... Economy?..._

With a very confused, frustrated sound like "nyargh", she held her head and kept looking at him. "That is very stupid!" she said at last. "If the world is in so much trouble, why are they worrying about money and power?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said, sadly, hopelessly.

Rukia was speechless. This was madness!

"Are you doing anything?" she demanded, fisting her hands in the carpet.

"Yes!" he retorted angrily. "Guess what, we are! We turn off lights when we don't use them, we don't use a million electric devices, we recycle paper, we don't use detergents! There!"

"But is that enough?!"

"W-well-"

"What is going to happen to the world in the future, if this keeps going on?" Her voice was quieter, now - wary, afraid.

"Things will keep getting worse, faster," he muttered, "and I guess the human race will either die out, kill themselves, or escape to another planet and eventually destroy that one too. Or, maybe, if they start seriously now, save the world and themselves, somehow. Slim chance. At least Japan is pretty prepared for big earthquakes..."

She was still staring at him with that horrified, anguished, disappointed look. _Why wouldn't she look away, dammit?_

"When will that be?" she was asking. He snapped back to attention.

"N-not for a long while..." he replied. He actually wasn't sure of his own words. "I... don't want to think about it..."

"Will it be-"

"No, it won't. It won't be in my lifetime. I'll be dead by the time it happens." He tried to laugh it off.

"Ichigo..." she murmured. "You're a full shinigami now, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."_ Damn. _"At least my family will be dead, then... They won't have to go through it..." He stopped. He couldn't talk anymore.

There was a long, long silence. Ichigo finally made proper eye contact with her. She was now watching him with a calm mixture of understanding and sad acceptance - and empathy.

They both felt a simultaneous moment's urge. Wordlessly, they embraced. It was a small comfort.

-


	5. Konso

_A/N: Really random. Meh._

-

**5. Konso**

The question came falling abruptly out of the silence.

"Rukia, can you explain to me what konso, is, again?"

She looked back. She knew what he was hiding behind the quietness, the dryness, the sunken-ness of his voice.

"I thought you knew," she replied sarcastically. "Baka. Have you forgotten?"

He didn't meet her eyes. "Just tell me. Like I'd forgotten."

She sighed slightly, already expecting what would come after. "Konso is the guiding of a soul to Soul Society. It is the giving of a ticket to pass through the gate to the afterlife."

"Is it considered... good?" Another question, soft and wary.

"Yes," she said carefully. "I suppose it is good. Otherwise the soul would -"

"Then _WHY?_"

She kept looking, startled by the sudden increase in volume, and his eyes came out of the shadow of his orange bangs. They were flashing with something indescribable, like pain, only

"Then why?" Ichigo repeated.

"Why what?" Rukia's voice was snapping more than she wanted it to.

"Why was that kid crying as he went?!" He finally met her eyes. She was shocked at what she found there. She began to walk towards him, face concerned, almost panicky, hand reaching out. "Ichi-"

"Why was he crying so bad for his mother? Why was he screaming not to go, that he was scared, that he wanted his mother?..." Now it was only a hoarse whisper.

"...if it's a good thing... wh-why-m-mothermothermother?... over... and over..."

Rukia stood, speechless, wordless, unable to speak, unable to think of even one word to say. This was not what she had expected. She could not answer his question.

She could not answer his question.

She could not answer his question.

Ichigo slumped to the ground. She watched.

She watched, and couldn't do anything.

-

_A/N: Two depressing ones in a row I'M SORRY. ø_ø;_


	6. Hill

_A/N: Oh dear, it's been a while, and this is so short. I'm working on some more, as well as that epilogue thing for the Frost People..._

-

**6. Hill**

"Here," she said, extending a hand, offering to pull him up. "C'mon."

Their fingers locked. Up, a little jerkily, he rose and stood, aided by her hand. They would pull each other up in turns; they alternated to keep it equal. He had pulled her up at her execution on the Soukyoku Hill. She had pulled him up when his hollow had threatened to swallow him. He had saved her. She had saved him. They had pulled each other out of darkness, and when one stumbled, the other was there to catch and support.

Now there was a unspoken agreement to always alternate, to always keep it equal. Today, Rukia knew it was her turn. She pulled him up, fingers weaving through his, and he let her without protest.

So far, the score, though countless, was equal. They tried to keep it that way.

"This hill," started Rukia. She was gazing out, out,_ out_ at the tiny, sprawling houses of Rukongai, the neat buildings of Seireitei, and distant forests and mountains and clouds and spiraling birds...

Ichigo looked at her quizzically, for she had stopped, and hadn't continued.

He had an idea of what she wanted to say. He left it at that.

Her shinigami robes were fluttering in the wind. Her hair, too. Above, the leaves of an old gnarled birch told whispered tales of Spring.

The moment stretched. All that passed between them were their hands, still intertwined, and the faintest of smiles that graced their faces.

-


	7. Teamwork

-

**7. Teamwork**

If there was one thing that irked Ichigo about laying in bed while sick or injured was that his insane father still insisted on booming in every morning and attacking him like a mad gorilla.

"GOOD MORNING, ICHIGO MY SON," he would bellow in mid-leap, fist ready, and then he would be promptly smacked straight out the window to bounce off the roof and crash to the ground. The faint cry would float up from below: "YOU HAVE NERVES OF STEEL, MY SON. YOU HAVE LEARNED WELL!"

And Ichigo would curse him for ripping open another healing cut.

Rukia saw this happen nearly every morning. She didn't particularly have a grudge against Ichigo's father - she just felt it a little unjust that a injured person had to go through it so often. If she was in Ichigo's place, she would feel horrible and very irritated. She tried to imagine herself injured in bed, and Nii-sama (?!) leaping into her room to pack her a punch with a yell.

After fighting back a burst of laughter, she quickly decided that analogy to be impossible and not very helpful, because:

a) Nii-sama would not yell.

b) Nii-sama would never punch her.

c) Nii-sama would definitely, definitely, definitely not leap uninvited into her room.

Now that she thought about it, Ichigo would be more likely to jump in at her...

But no. He wouldn't. Not when she was injured.

So in truth, she really had no idea how it felt to be attacked every morning like Ichigo was.

She decided it must be painful.

An idea popped into her mind, quite abruptly and shockingly as some ideas do, and she immediately declared her idea to Ichigo.

"I will guard your door every morning, and impede your father's intents," she proclaimed.

He raised an eyebrow at this. "Guard my door? You? _Impede_ that goat?" A smile pulled at his lips.

"Do not laugh, Ichigo! I am serious!"

"But - really, you don't have to do anything. I'm used to it all."

"But you are injured," she pointed out.

"Well, whatever."

And despite his protests, she plopped herself outside his door every morning, when the sun was still down and the day still young, and kept diligent watch over injured Ichigo.

He always watched over her, after all.

And so, on the first morning, as soon as the sun rose in the sky, Isshin banged about and loudly made his way upstairs.

_Oh, here he comes,_ thought Rukia, and she slipped inside Ichigo's room to shake him awake gently and warn him. Sleepily he struggled out of bed, and stood in a nook of his room, readying himself.

Rukia stepped outside again, and with a smile, paused at the top of the stairs to address Isshin. "Good morning, sir."

"Why, good morning, Rukia-chan," replied Isshin. "If you could please move to the side - I need to wake my sleepy-head-son Ichigo."

"Oh, sir, you really shouldn't. He needs his rest, being injured."

"Now, Rukia-chan, you mustn't underestimate the ability of rough mornings to power up a man for the day."

_Okay, Ichigo. You better be ready now._ "Well... If you're sure, then go ahead, sir." With her fake smile still plastered on her face, she stepped aside, and stood to watch the spectacle unfold.

With a marvelous yell, the father of Ichigo flung himself through the door and rocketed towards the bed. He immediately found the bed empty - and a well-aimed kick propelled him through the window yet again.

Behind his quickly descending form, Ichigo and Rukia gave each other a high-five.

Their teamwork was always something remarkable, indeed.

-


	8. Distances

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. :) They encourage me to write more._

-

**8. Distances**

"What?! You're leaving?" Ichigo fought to keep his voice under control.

"Yes..." Rukia was sighing sadly, like autumn leaves drifting away...

"How long?"

"...Perhaps a month. It can't be said." She was staring at her fingers - tying knots within themselves in her edginess.

"Why can't - I want to go with - y-y-_Rukia-_"

"You have your own assignment. We must follow our duties, Ichigo." She sighed again and held his arm gently. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and pressed her forehead into the crook of his elbow. Instinctively he held her shoulders.

Ichigo tried to understand the situation. Yes, he had his own assignment - he had received it today, as she had. Fate had been fickle and they had been sent to areas distant from each other. Funny how he had always assumed he would be able to stick by her all the time... Shinigami life wasn't like that. They weren't in the same division. He didn't even _have_ a division.

The buts kept on flying through his head.

"But you _can't_-"

"I _can,_ Ichigo."

And she raised her head, in a moment as glorious as a rising moon revealing its beauty through the clouds, and her ocean-violet eyes sparked a thrill as they dove into his own.

"Because_ I can come back._"

-


	9. HeartTears

_A/N: Meh. I don't know._

-

**9. HeartTears**

He swore that

Even if all the forces of nature fought against it

And opposed it, and tried to crush it,

Rolling through life, they would be

Together forever.

-

They shared the heaviness of an

Everlasting nightmare and the burden of guilt, but

After all the tears

_Rukia,_ he would call, and

She would always answer.

-

_Tears in the heart can always be mended_


	10. The Blue Heavens

-

**10. The Blue Heavens**

"Take off your waraji, come on," she urged, and he hesitantly obliged, kicking off his shinigami sandals and white socks. He looked down at his suddenly bare feet, stark and pale against the green of the grass. It was a funny feeling. He wasn't used to being barefoot; back then, in Karakura, he'd been warned of garbage, dog deposits, nasty things left about for some reason.

Here, in Soul Society, there weren't such things.

It was a funny feeling, but it wasn't bad. Rukia was already dashing about with glee, clambering up a hillock and finding a stiff-necked tree to rest a hand on.

"Ichigo!" she called, waving her hand. "Come here!"

He half hopped, half strode toward her, still adjusting to the oddness of prickling grass against his feet. He liked it, though. It was strangely nostalgic and bright and sweet.

He seemed to be moving too slow, for she ran back a short distance and grabbed his wrist, pulling him up the hillock. "Come on, tawake," she pressed, and flashed him a sudden grin that made his heart jump.

"Why're you so happy?" he grumped at her.

"Because," she said vaguely, and plopped down on the grass, elbows on her knees. She began to pick daisies, humming lightly under her breath.

"That doesn't help," he sighed, and settled beside her. He watched as her delicate fingers began to weave a daisy chain. Engrossed in the careful task, she did not answer. Quite used to the silences that liked to stretch between them, he only huffed lightly into his arms and picked at the folds in his black robes and wiggled his toes in the turf.

"Toes look sort of like grubs," Rukia observed suddenly.

There was a pause.

"Ew," they chorused, and laughed.

There was another contemplative silence.

"They _do _look like grubs," Ichigo said darkly. "Disturbing."

"Naa, Ichigo," she said quietly. "Why is the sky blue?"

"...Huh?! What kind of question is that?"

"But do you know?"

"Well, there's a real complicated reason for it that I don't wanna try to explain right now," he grumbled, averting her eyes.

"Aha," she said smugly. "You don't know."

"I _do_ know! I-I, it's, it's like, _reeeeeeeally_ complicated and you wouldn't understand a whole bunch of stuff -"

"Then tell me with words I will understand," she retorted.

"Tha - Rukia, that's my point! You can't explain something like this with words a shinigami would understand!" He pulled at his bangs exasperatedly.

"Well, I think you are simply covering up," she said wryly.

A silence.

"...Why can you read me like this?!"

"Mm." The sound she made was so maddeningly smug.

"I have a feeling I learned why it's blue sometime ago," he muttered sheepishly. "But I have no idea now. Something to do with the atmosphere and the ozone layer..."

"O-Ozuun?..."

"...Never mind."

"I think the sky is blue because someone decided a black sky is horrid," she said lightly. "So that person went and painted it a nice blue. But some other people liked it black, so they decided to make it equal, with night-time a black sky and day-time a blue sky."

Enthralled, he watched her spin out the story, and as false as he knew it was, it was so graceful, so quaint, so Rukia-like, that he couldn't help but believe it.

"Sometimes, when the night-people got tired of their black, they decorated the between-time of night and day with bright oranges and reds, and purples, and golds... And the day-people liked that idea, so they took the mornings, and turned them pale rosy pinks, like cherry blossoms, and even put dashes of the lightest blues and purples..." Her eyes were closed now, a gentle smile illuminating her features.

"And the sun needed a say in it all, so he felt like he should help out with making the day very bright and pretty, and began his rounds of coming up and going down, to light up the nice colours they painted on the sky... And some bits of paint fell into the oceans, and coloured them too, so they would match the sky. Then those night-people and day-people went up to the sky to hang up the stars and clouds, and -"

All her breath escaped in a surprised squeak as Ichigo fell onto her, arms around her, and they both knocked over onto the grass.

"Keep going," he whispered, smiling into her hair. They were both stiff with awkwardness, but something flitted so joyfully within them that they couldn't help but want to ignore the self-consciousness of lying in the grass with - oh dear, he was hugging her, wasn't he? His mind was a-blunder.

Rukia flicked gently at the trembling blades of grass beside her face, smiling and smiling.

"And then the moon came up, and found the sun."

With that, she picked up his heavy arm across her and slipped the daisy chain onto his wrist.

-


	11. Death

-

**11. Death**

_War-time._ The word tolled painfully in Rukia's head, ringing out someone's death.

She could feel blood crusting below her lip, Shirayuki slippery in her grasp, the rubble's dust clogging her eyes. _War-time._

What was she doing? Oh, she was resting. Resting because she was one of the few with only shallow cuts and bruises, and she needed to be strong if someone else fell.

_Who will fall next?_

Death seemed to be lurking close, that cat-eyed haunt, stalking about the ruins of buildings and shattered bodies.

A sudden shift in the air behind her - she almost turned, her deadly blade swinging, but just in time she realized the shift was not from an enemy. A hand paused lightly at her shoulder. "Rukia, you okay?"

She wanted to scream _no, how could anyone be okay, this is war-time, you idiot_ - But she stuttered a sigh and muttered, "I guess."

She raised her head, timidly regarding his well-being. "What about you, Ichigo?"

At least he was here to talk to, his face concerned, ravaged by war just as her face was. He forced a difficult smile. "Decent." His hand left her shoulder, leaving behind an empty space of loss.

"I've- I've got to go back to fighting," he said, and she now noticed the bags under his eyes and the gauntness of his cheeks.

"Rest," she pleaded.

"I can't. It's..." He didn't finish, didn't want to say how bad things were looking.

"Listen," he began, catching her shoulder again, "you shouldn't stay here. Things will get real rough, and you can't be caught up in it."

"Ichigo, I _do not_ need to be protected, I can fight -"

"You've said that before, I know. But... Here, now.... _Please._" With a jolt of bitter understanding, Rukia saw it, clear and painful, in his expression.

"Just... _go._ Don't stay." His eyes refused to break from hers. "You... out of everyone, can't get hu -" He choked, either on the dust or on his own words.

There was a fragment of fence stuck in his hair. She gently removed it - a small act of kindness compared to what he was doing for her. "All right," she murmured, close to his ear.

And just before she turned to shunpo away, she grabbed his hand and looked right into his face.

"Don't die," she commanded fiercely. "Don't die, Ichigo."

His lids lowered. "I won't."

They separated ways, hearts connected - through war-time, and through death itself.

-


	12. Pride

12. Pride

* * *

There was a cold defiance around her whenever she was fighting. It was only natural, only Rukia. All the butterflies in the world could not lead him to her heart when she was fighting. She was the elusive dancer, spinning out of his hands, dealing deadly touches to her enemies and scattering the butterflies. She could snare them with a slash, she could break them with a tap. She had the pale accuracy of a moonbeam and the hard mercy of a decapitation. Ichigo always felt unspoken awe when he watched the beauty of her battles - she never failed to grace her foes with a last iced kiss of steeled death.

Gently, she would spin back to him, and they could hold hands once more. He let her fight. He knew better than to shatter her fighter's pride - the foundation of their fateful crossing.


	13. Nothing At All

**13. Nothing At All**

* * *

"I've been moved to seventh seat," announced Rukia proudly as they walked along the streets of Seireitei, the sun warm on their faces and the wind cool on their backs. "Nii-sama finally gave me permission. Ukitake-taichou said I am strong enough for third seat, but for now I should try seventh seat, just to see what it's like and to get used to it."

"That's great," replied Ichigo, trying to sound cheerful despite the heaviness (or doubt or whatever that feeling was) that hung in his heart. He wanted to say more, praise her or tease her or just fill the awkward silence right now where she was obviously expecting him to say something else.

Rukia noticed his hesitation, of course.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He almost couldn't look away at the gaze she gave him, eyes wide and curious.

"Uh."

"Uh?"

"Uhhhhhhhhh well. I was just... kind of wondering what I should do."

She raised her eyebrows. He tried to stop himself from thinking about how pretty her hair looked with the sun shining on it.

"I-I mean I don't have a division, right, so it kind of makes me feel a little... left out when you talk about... getting a seat... you know..."

Her face immediately transformed into one of concern and guilt. "I'm sorry, Ichigo."

He felt a twinge. "No! Don't be! Umm... Just... I feel like I should join a division instead of wandering around the place. But I've no idea..."

"Why don't you go find a division, then?" she suggested. "There are plenty of divisions with empty seats. I am confident they would like to have you."

"...But I want to be with you!"

That came out a lot, lot weirder than he had intended. That was a Big Mistake, because she was staring at him funnily now and he had to look at everywhere but her. He fumbled clumsily for the words that would delete the Big Mistake and turn it into a Nothing At All.

"I-I-Imeantthat if I don't stay around you I might mess up! Y-Yeah. 'Cause you're way more experienced than me, and... and..."

"Enough, Ichigo," she said, and he suddenly noticed she was laughing. "Bakamono, do not even try." Without an ounce of hesitation, her hand rested on his wrist, and she smiled.

"If you go ask Ukitake-taichou," she told him, "I am sure he would readily accept you."

And there was a confidence around her smile that suddenly put him at ease and made everything all right. A silent breeze pushed past them and her black locks danced.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I might. Thanks, Rukia."

Their smiles matched for a moment - and then it was broken by a scowl on Rukia's face. "You moron, why do you always have to be so thick-headed? It is obvious that you could easily join thirteenth division instead of any other division. Why did you think you could not?"

Ichigo flushed. "That's... I thought there were some rules or something! I don't know all the details about joining a division, okay?"

"You should know by now! Really, how many years has it been?"

"Well, you never explained them to me!"

"I did, multiple times, tawake!"

"Really? When?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Whatever."

He snorted. "Tch, be that way."

Rukia shuffled her feet a little and stared at the ground as if there was something very interesting stuck to it. "I mean, I'd want you to join thirteenth," she muttered. "It'd be nice for you to be here -"

She stopped and shot him a couple glances that had a particular shyness about them that jolted him a little. He waited for her to say more, but she only pursed her mouth and kept on walking. After a few moments, her steps faltered. She half-turned, revealing her small nose and black lashes, low against the glaze of the sun.

"...b-because there's still plenty for you to learn," she finished hesitantly.

"...yeah," agreed Ichigo, equally hesitantly. He knew it wasn't what she wanted to say. It wasn't what he wanted to agree to, either.

He realized he wasn't the only bumbling traveler who didn't know the way through these difficult matters. He always remembered Rukia for being the steadfast plume of confidence and wisdom, the one who would stand up straight and fearlessly raise her eyes to meet his - and here, she had joined him for but a moment, and they had been _two_ bumbling travelers trying to help each other find the way.

Rukias could make Big Mistakes, too. They just hid it better.

"Let's go," she said, turning fully, composure returned. _Nothing at all._


	14. Eyes

**14. Eyes**

* * *

"Eyes are like the gateways to one's soul," she told him one day.

He blinked, suddenly conscious.

"That's what they say here, at least," she muttered as an afterthought.

"I think I've heard it, too," he commented.

"It's quite true," she continued quietly, seeing several memories flash through her mind at once - _what happened, Ichigo? - those are not the eyes of the victor - what happened - autumn brown, warm like the sun - the **crushed** -_

She brought herself back and looked up at him. "They say eyes cannot lie, either."

"Maybe." He looked, too. He found his hands wringing themselves lightly because he really _really_ didn't want her to turn away those glorious eyes when she did. He knew it was considered weird to stare at someone's eyes for too long, but,

"Your eyes are nice," she said, without looking at him, and he wanted to both hit her and hug her at the same time.

"Um... Thanks..." Were his eyes that nice for her to go to all the trouble to compliment them?

She was being funny today.

Unable to fight back a sudden impulse, he reached out and gently turned her around. She gazed up at him, puzzled. _Doorways and gateways._

"Is it weird to want to look and only look?" he asked.

She smiled. "Maybe." Her eyes focused and fixed upon him, and the sky-violet twin gates swung open gently, like his were doing now. Maybe one day those gates would swing open to their fullest. Maybe one day something great and beautiful would come out those doors and meet with the other, entwining long tails together and purring in each others' manes.

* * *

_A/N: Exams. :(_


	15. Fingers

**15. Fingers**

* * *

Sometimes her fingers would brush over his eyelids, just vague and gentle enough so that he found no time to say anything. He might occasionally be able to slip out her name - _Rukia_ - in that kind of annoyed, kind of pleased voice that carried with it a hint of caution, but usually she was already gone. Like a puff of smoke, or a butterfly made of dust.

"You're like a ghost of some sort," he said one day without thinking, and she answered with such a solemn, empty "Really?" that he immediately felt a pang. That was all she said, but her fingers twined in awkward sad movements in front of her, adding to her message of _don't say that_. He eventually learned how much her fingers spoke for her. They snatched at his hands when she couldn't cry her joy; they traced his cheek when she couldn't explain her sorrow. They brushed his bangs away from his eyes when she couldn't find the words to comfort him, and she rested them over his heart when she wanted to say she loved him. Silence was often her way, as was often his - he wasn't known for expressing his feelings in words.

But he, thick-headed baka-Ichigo, sometimes bumbled his words out in an attempt to fix the silence - clumsily, not like Rukia when the other part of her leapt up, flinging wise words out of her mouth to batter some sense into him. The silence felt strange to him and he would get the terrible urge to fix it, all at the wrong times.

"You don't need to fix it," she said. Slate-violet eyes rested fearlessly on his, and slender fingers rested firmly on his, telling him everything he needed to know. She taught him how to get used to the silence.

"Pictures tell a thousand words," he replied in understanding, "but silence tells... ten thousand, then." He grinned. "Maybe a million."

And she nodded and smiled - silently.


End file.
